Even to a drug-soaked outcast ethnographer Fyhon was a paradise planet. It was worth anybody's life to find Dridihad, the secret city of dread! Ericson returned to an awareness of his personal identity quite suddenly. He had an impression that it was a long time, months at least, since he had been in a state of normal consciousness. At the back of his mind a memory of pain had imprinted itself as a signet makes an impression in hot wax; he shied away from it. "Where am I?" he asked.…
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